Bones' Fetish
by gawilliams
Summary: Booth finds out that Bones has a fetish.  A humorous little OOC story for fun.


_This short humorous sketch came to me when I rewatched the episode where the extreme honesty group was visited by Booth, Bones, and Sweets. I hope you enjoy this one. Gregg._

_Disclaimer: I don't own, or profit from, these characters or franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

Booth had had it. He was squirming in his chair trying desperately to get comfortable. No matter what he did, he still felt like his groin was on fire from the chafing on his suit pants. He just couldn't understand it. Every morning for the past week he had gone to the underwear drawer and no matter how many he'd washed the night before, the drawer was empty! He'd looked all over the damn place, and every day he'd bought new boxers, wasting money, and washing them before bed so he would have new, clean boxers. Then nothing!

"Dammit!" Booth blurted out when he felt a tendril of fire scrape along his upper inner thigh. Enough was enough! He stood up quickly, but gingerly, and strode from his office.

Twenty minutes later he was at Bones' apartment, where he was now living in total relationship bliss. Unfortunately, while going commando on a rare occasion was not too big a deal, doing so for a whole week left the bliss portion of the relationship writhing in the dust.

"Okay," he said as he opened all of the drawers allocated to him in their bedroom. He picked his way through carefully, managing not to miss a single item. With all the damn boxers he'd bought in the last week he should be swimming in the damn things! But no. Not a single damn pair was in sight! Knowing that they didn't have rodents or pets about, he had to check on more spot before starting to make some assumptions.

Making his way to the laundry room he went through all the laundry baskets, even the ones with Bones' unmentionables. Again he came up empty! Alright. Now it was time to make some assumptions and bring out the big guns. He went back into the bedroom and opened all of Bones' drawers. Making sure not to disturb anything too much, as he wanted to live if he was proved wrong and he'd been hallucinating about all the boxers he'd been buying and losing, he went through each drawer. Then the last drawer came up. On the surface it looked like nothing more than a t-shirt and camisole drawer. But then he pulled out the top t-shirts and camisoles and gasped. There, in plain sight, were all of his boxers neatly folded in all their glory. All of them. Including the ones he'd spent so much money on during the past week.

He couldn't believe it! Bones, the little sneak, had stolen all of his boxers. He had a rash from chafing that wasn't to be believed, and she had caused it! Snatching the top one off the stacks, he rapidly put a pair on and pulled his pants up. The relief, while slight given the severity of the rash, was instant and his sighed. Then he got a plastic bag and put every pair of boxers in it. This needed to be dealt with and pronto!

Booth broke a few speed laws on the way to the Jeffersonian, and he may have flipped on the siren a couple of times when the traffic slowed to a crawl. Ordinarily he wouldn't do such an unethical thing, but this was too important to ignore and be patient over. He screeched to a halt in the first parking space that presented itself and grabbed the bag of boxers, rushing into the building and back to the Little Shop of Horrors that the love of his life worked in. If anyone noticed the awkward, half bow legged gait of his movements, they wisely didn't comment. Except for one person.

"Nice walk, Studly," Angela said with a smile. "Bren doing some kinky stuff on you in the sack?"

Booth reddened a bit. "No," he said firmly, not in any mood to deal with Angela's needling. "Where's Bones?" he asked, his eyes scanning all over and not seeing her.

"Limbo," Angela said with a jerk of her thumb in that direction.

"Thanks," Booth said and stomped off to the Bones Storage. Sure enough Bones was there, bent over one of the table examining a bone. "You know, Bones, confession is good for the soul," he said as he entered and stood right in front of her.

"I'm, not Catholic, so I don't confess to any sins," Bones replied, taking what he said literally.

"Then what about this?" Booth asked as he dumped all of his boxers, new and old, onto an empty examination table.

"It looks like a number of pairs of boxer shorts," Bones said, trying to keep her laughter at bay. She'd wondered how long it would take him to discover her subterfuge.

"Way to state the obvious, Bones," he snarked. "What I'd like to know is how these all wound up in your t-shirt drawer."

"And I'd like to know what you were doing in my drawers to begin with," Bones shot back. She was going to enjoy this mock argument.

"Bones, I have had to go commando for the last week, and when I diligently search for my missing boxers, I find that you stole them!" he said, his voice raising a bit on that last part.

"And going commando is a problem?" she asked, a brow arched, enjoying this.

"It is when I get a big honking rash from chafing!" Booth exclaimed. "Now what in the name of all that's Holy were you thinking?"

"Remember when we went to that extreme honesty group a few months ago?" she asked.

"A bunch of kooks," Booth muttered.

"Remember what you admitted?" she pressed.

Booth groaned. "That when I don't have any clean underwear I go commando," he said in a deliberate whisper.

"I got quite aroused by the image that produced, namely you wearing a suit without your underwear on," she told him.

Booth gulped. The way she said aroused always turned him on. "Bones, I know you're fascinated with Junior and the Boys, but I'm in some serious pain, here," he told her. "So all this was so you could be constantly aroused knowing Junior and the Boys have a little freedom?"

"Plus, it's easier access if I decide to take care of that arousal," she told him, a glint of serious arousal in her eyes now.

"Bones, I've been commando for a week and you haven't once come by to take care of that," he reminded her.

Bones' eyes flared. "I can take care of it now," she told him in a silky tone.

He held up his hand. "Sorry, Bones," he told her. "Junior is out of commission for a while until the rash goes away. And we have a new rule. My boxer drawer is off limits to you. It's costing me a fortune in replacements, and I don't even get to enjoy the damn things!"

"How about we take care of the rash, and make sure that it doesn't recur, and then I can enjoy the results of you going commando," Bones suggested.

"But, Bones, I don't like going commando," Booth stated firmly.

"I have a fetish," she told him. "I didn't know it until you made your honest statement about your underwear, but it is true."

"What, guys going commando?" he looked at her as if she were insane.

"No," she gave him a lusty expression. "My fetish is more directed. It's _**you**_ going commando," she purred.

Booth thought about that for a moment. Bones had a fetish about him. It involved no sick stuff like pony play. It applied to no one else but him. He caved.

"Alright. But only if we get rid of this rash and make damn sure it doesn't come back," he told her.

Bones laughed. "Let's go and get it taken care of," she told him as she pulled him along by the hand.

"Hey, Bones," he said as they walked out into the hallway. "Any more fetishes I should be aware of?" Her continued laughter didn't give him a lot of confidence, but he was also interested in what else that devious little vixen had in store for him.

_A/N: OOC, and nutty, but I thought it would be fun to jot down the idea. I hope you enjoyed it. Gregg._


End file.
